 | Poems |  |
144
FRAGMENT.
[Seest thou her cheek]
Seest thou her cheek,How fitfully the faint hue of the rose
Steals o'er its paleness; she is looking forth,
With earnest gaze upon the sunset heaven,
And there is rapture in her kindling glance
Mingled with yearning for that far-off world
Where her thoughts wander.—Look upon her now,
She is too beautiful for earth, too pure
To breathe this lower air; her spirit pines
For communing with Heaven, and not in vain,
For Death is busy there, and he hath set
His signet on that young, unwritten brow,
And mark'd her for his own! Mourn not her sate,
This is no fit abiding-place for her
So innocent, so free from earthly taint;—
Rather rejoice that she is journeying hence,
A happy pilgrim to the better land,
Which is her home.
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